Cords

Every person, friend, family, enemy and lover is a string, one end attached to you. Tethered to life.

We go through our lives getting all tangled up. When someone dies the cord is cut. Gazing down, your hold the severed line in your hand and wonder about the cut. Even with the courage to go back to the opera in Vienna or that little bar with no name, it is no longer the same. Without that lifeline, everything is a vertigo inducing free floating monument to the past.

With death, the fear is not of the unknown, not really. It is the knowledge that inevitably we all end up like broken marionettes, slumped over, every string cut.

I grew up listening to my father's jazz records and listening to the radio. My dad was a musician for many years as a vocalist, bassist and drummer. His two uncles played in the Symphony of Reggio Calabria back in Italy

I grew up listening to my father's jazz records and listening to the radio. My dad was a musician for many years as a vocalist, bassist and drummer. His two uncles played in the Symphony of Reggio Calabria back in Italy. So music and jazz specifically have been a part of me since I was born. I love and perform in all styles of music from around the world. Improvisation in jazz is what drew me in, and still does as well as other genres that feature improvisation. A group of great musicians expressing themselves as one is the hallmark of great jazz and in fact all great music.